


Pigs in Space

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly
Genre: Crack, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-14
Updated: 2006-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Spike find themselves in a strange place, and decide to have a little fun experimentation. BtVS/Firefly crossover. Post-series (BtVS).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pigs in Space

**Author's Note:**

> This arose out of a conversation with [](http://sweet-ali.livejournal.com/profile)[**sweet_ali**](http://sweet-ali.livejournal.com/) about how dirty astronomy terms could be. She innocently asked, "Can you imagine Buffy and Spike in space?"

 

Buffy cracked her eyes open with a low groan. Blackness, just as she'd expected. She blinked her eyes fuzzily and tried to remember what had happened. Hunting in the cemetery...bright light...loud bang...and then nothing.

Yup. This night was off to a great start.

It was official: patrolling with Spike was a bad, bad idea. Between the vampires, demons and random make-out sessions, she was lucky to have an outfit make it through an entire week intact. And then there were the bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes, and assorted spatterings of blood, phlegm and mucus. Well, that's why she got paid the big bucks. Except not so much, even with Giles in charge of the new Council. According to Spike, everyone involved with the Council was afflicted with a terminal case of Cheap Bastard. She didn't bother to tell him that Giles had quietly forwarded her a shoe allowance out of the general coffers. After all, she'd been sworn to secrecy.

So not everything was of the bad. Still, tonight was shaping up to be on the worse-than-usual side of the spectrum.

Buffy groaned again and tried to lift her head, then gave up when the sudden move made her stomach roll. As her eyes cleared, she noticed that the space she was in was _not_ , in fact, pitch black. She was in a small room that appeared to be made entirely of metal, from what she could see -- one wall set with bars and dials, another with a smooth metal mesh, and a third that appeared to be covered with pipes that hummed and clanked. Several small lamps were scattered across the room, illuminating the space with a dull yellow light. The floor she was lying on was cold to the touch, and she shivered. Where was Spike?

"Spike," she croaked, turning her head to the side. She almost screamed when she saw his face right in front of hers. He was blinking himself awake, and he frowned at her in confusion. With a wince she pushed herself off the floor...

...and went sailing across the room until she crashed into the ceiling.

Buffy let out a shriek -- more out of surprise than anything else -- as she bounced off the ceiling and careened back towards the floor. Spike had the presence of mind to reach out and catch her, but the impact sent them both spinning across the floor until they smashed into a wall and went sailing across the room again.

Back and forth they bounced, clutching more and more tightly to each other and getting progressively dizzier and dizzier, until Buffy managed to catch hold of a protruding bar with one hand and hold on to it for dear life. She let out a grunt as Spike's momentum almost jerked the bar out of her hand, but he quickly scrabbled to grab hold as well and clung rather desperately to it.

"Don't move!" she shouted.

"I'm not!" he yelled in return, swinging around to get a better grip. The sudden movement brought his legs up, and before he could stop himself he kicked Buffy in the middle of the back. She shot him a glare, and he rolled his eyes and straightened himself as best he could.

"Okay," Buffy panted, clinging tightly to the bar with her hands and hooking her feet around a nearby pipe. "What in the _hell_ is going on here?"

Spike tentatively loosened his grip on the bar and gave a push, and Buffy gaped at him as he proceeded to drift slowly toward the middle of the room.

"Spike," she said slowly, "did you know that you're floating?"

Spike waved his arms experimentally, sending himself into a lazy spin that left Buffy staring at his upside-down ass. "Can't argue with that one," he said agreeably, trying out a series of jerky movements in an attempt to right himself.

"Oh," Buffy said faintly. "I was just checking." Her stomach was still swimming, and her head felt like it had been stuffed in a padded envelope. She pointedly ignored Spike's gleeful acrobatics, which were doing strange things to her insides, and studied the room around her. Same metal walls, same yellow lamps...and then she realized with a start that the only way the whole thing made any sense was if the wall with the smooth metal mesh was actually the _floor_. Which meant that the pipes she was wrapped around were part of the ceiling. And oh god, her stomach did not like that thought _at all_ , and she was going to....

Buffy slammed her eyes shut, clamped her hand over her mouth and whimpered. She heard Spike call her name, but she was too busy dealing with a sudden rush of nausea to answer him. He was making frantic puffing movements, and he started to swear colorfully.

"Hey!" he called. "I can't move!"

Buffy cracked her eyes open and peered over to see Spike still in the middle of the room, pinwheeling his arms and legs frantically, flopping like a beached fish and going precisely nowhere. She started to laugh, but the nausea quickly reasserted itself and she closed her eyes with a moan. It felt like she was in free-fall, except without the hitting ground part. She did _not_ want to throw up, not like this, not with all of this floatiness, except that it was goinig to happen and there was nothing she could do about it.

She had just resigned herself to the fact that, yes, she was about to hurl her guts all over the room, when she heard Spike call her name once more. She turned to find his shirt sailing towards her and him moving backwards towards the floor. He'd obviously found his solution to being stuck in midair. And boy, wouldn't Willow love this? Conservation of something or other. Forces and gravity and motion and...

Buffy grabbed at Spike's shirt, held it to her face, and proceeded to unload her dinner.

She came to her senses again when she noticed that Spike was next to her, holding her flyaway hair and rubbing her back gently.

"Thanks," she croaked, wiping her face carefully. She wadded up the shirt and tried to gingerly pass it back to Spike. He gave her an incredulous look, so she rolled her eyes and did her best to stuff it behind one of the pipes.

"Aw, poor Slayer," he said cheerfully. "Did the big, bad empty room upset you?"

Apparently vampires didn't have a problem with vertigo. Buffy concentrated on tying her loose hair in a knot so she wasn't tempted to hit him. "Yeah, just see how well you'd do if you weren't dead," she muttered.

He gave her an unrepentant grin and pushed off from the wall (or was it the ceiling?) to glide through the air toward the other side of the room. Just before he hit the opposite wall (floor? Buffy was starting to feel sick again), he did a fluid somersault and push that launched him right back toward her. She was convinced that he threw in an extra flip just to show off.

God, he was insufferably smug. _Time to take him down a notch._

Scowling, Buffy launched herself towards him and braced for the midair collision. Spike caught her arm and swung her around, sending her sailing towards the nearest surface, and Buffy couldn't resist the laugh that bubbled up. She felt like a little kid, like when her dad would take her by the arms and swing her around while mom yelled at him to stop, and Buffy would laugh and laugh...

She caught herself right before she was about to collide with the wall, spinning around neatly and launching herself towards Spike. It only took her a moment to realize that she should be aiming towards where he was going instead of where he was -- _just like throwing a spear_ , except that this time she herself was the weapon -- and after a minute of chasing him around the room she managed to catch his ankle and crawl her way up his body. They slowly drifted to a stop next to one of the walls, and for the first time Buffy noticed that there was a small porthole window set into the metal surface.

It was night outside, but not a night like she'd ever seen before. Compared to the smog of L.A., Sunnydale was practically an observer's paradise. Still, it couldn't compare to what she saw outside the small window. Stars filled her field of view, countless stars, stars upon stars, and Buffy had a feeling she'd be able to see even more of them if she could find a way to turn out all the lights in the room.

"Whoa."

"What?" Spike asked.

"There!" she hissed, pointing to the window. "Does that look remotely normal to you?" She waved her hand vaguely at the rest of the room. "And the floating? Spike, I know this is going to sound really strange, but..."

"...but Willow messed up another spell and turned the gravity off, right? I knew it!"

She blinked at him. "Uh, yeah. Except not even remotely what I was going to say." She lowered her voice. "Spike...I don't think we're on Earth anymore."

Spike stared at her for a moment, then his eyes widened and he burst out laughing. "What, we're in a spaceship or something? Oh yeah, cause _that's_ realistic."

"Excuse me? I think it's a lot more realistic than 'Willow made the gravity go away'." She caught his arm, swatting him to try to make him stop snickering. "Look, I think we're in trouble. How many people do you know who have the power to do this to us? I think you know who I'm talking about."

Spike's mouth tightened, and she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. "Those sodding bastards," he ground out, and pushed himself off to float to the other side of the room. "Hey!" he yelled. "I know you're listening to me! You think you can keep me in here? I've escaped from you once before, and I'll do it again! You can take your spaceship and shove it right up your tight Initiative asses!"

Buffy didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she settled for a slightly hysterical giggle. "Or...maybe Wolfram & Hart?" she asked carefully. "Angel warned us they were regrouping. Maybe they're trying to get us out of the way."

Spike regarded her dubiously. "Pretty far out of the way, wouldn't you say?"

"Well...yeah, maybe," she said, deflating slightly. "But I'm out of ideas."

"I still say a witch did it," Spike said sulkily, then brightened and used a pipe to crawl over to a relatively smooth section of one of the walls. "Hey, is that a door?"

"Don't open it!"

Spike paused in mid-push. "What? Why?"

"How do you know where it goes? What if it goes...outside?" She jerked her thumb at the window behind her, and Spike paused thoughtfully.

"Ah."

Buffy shuddered. "That leads to exploding eyeballs and all kinds of badness. I think we should lay low until we find out what's going on and who put us here. There's no use in getting ourselves killed before whoever-it-is gets around to killing us."

Spike gave himself a push, launching himself in her direction. He crooked a finger at her, a sly smile ticking at the corner of his mouth, and against her better judgment, Buffy pushed off to meet him in the middle of the room.

"So," he said slowly, catching her in his arms and leaning down to rub his nose against the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. "Any idea what we should do with ourselves in the meantime?" He raised his head and gave her a perfectly filthy leer.

Buffy groaned at the sheer level of smarm, then shivered as he brushed a soft kiss against the side of her neck. Damn him. "Your timing sucks," she muttered, mindlessly clutching his shoulders and closing her eyes to shut out the sight of the room spinning slowly around them. "I can't believe you're actually in the mood."

"Oh, come on," he coaxed in a silky voice. "It'll be an adventure. Didn't you ever see _Moonraker_?" He rolled his eyes at her blank look. "James Bond? Dr. Holly Goodhead?"

"Ew. And was that a Pierce Brosnan one? Because if it wasn't, I didn't see it."

"Your loss. That final scene was brilliant." He nuzzled against her neck again. "The two of them, in space together...come on, haven't you ever wondered what it would be like?"

"I think I can safely say that I haven't." But oh god, her resistance was weakening. Spike had the world's absolute worst timing when it came to sex. She could always count on him to get that heavy-eyed, aroused look at the worst possible time -- like in the heat of battle, or when they were in the middle of the grocery store, or when they'd accidentally become astronauts. Still, his bad timing had led to some of the best sex of her life. Here he was, all shirtless and everything. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity. She could feel herself surrendering...and then he tried to give her a kiss.

"Ugh! I don't think so." She turned away from his lips, clamping her mouth shut. Spike pouted at her, but she shook her head firmly. "No way, mister. Not until I get hold of a toothbrush and about a gallon of mouthwash."

Spike shrugged. "There are other things I can do with my mouth." And he latched onto her neck, clearly trying to give her the mother of all hickeys. Oh god, she was going to give in to him. She had no willpower whatsoever.

"This is probably not a good...oh!...idea," she said, starting to squirm a bit under his roving hands.

"Probably not," Spike agreed, continuing to lavish attention on her neck. "But it'll be fun. Come on, Slayer. Doing the nasty in outer space? What could top that?" He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Ready for me to probe your black hole?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "You did not just say that."

He merely laughed and grabbed her close, twining one hand in her hair and sending the other under her shirt. "So let's explore strange new worlds," he said with a grin, and before she could draw breath to accuse him of secretly watching Andrew's DVDs, he'd started kneading her breast. She gave in with a moan.

She had a feeling that this was totally a bad idea.

 

**********

"You were right," Spike admitted. "This was a really bad idea."

Buffy clung to him and nodded; she didn't have the strength to do more than that. She was panting, dripping with sweat, her heart pounding as if she'd just run a marathon.

And they hadn't even gotten to the good stuff yet.

"Ugh," she groaned, looking up wearily. "We've stopped spinning, right? Because that was a bad, bad, move."

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Sex-in-space was supposed to be romantic and gentle and floaty, not tiring and sick-making. Why in the hell had she allowed Spike to talk her into this in the first place? The whole thing was all his fault.

They'd started off well enough, with some gentle kissing and light touches that quickly escalated. By the time Buffy had lost her shirt, they had been well into the heavy-petting stage of the proceedings.

"Lay back," Spike had whispered huskily, stripping her pants off and wrapping her legs around his waist. "I want to try something."

Giving him a suspicious look, Buffy had rested her hands on his shoulders and slowly leaned her torso back. Her muscles had trembled, still unused to the lack of gravity, and it had taken her brain a few seconds to realize that she was not, in fact, falling. With a moan, she had let go of Spike's shoulders and relaxed her back, sighing as he cupped her breasts in his hands.

It had felt like she was submerged in a ocean, warm and womb-like, and she'd wanted to laugh from a sudden rush of joy that bubbled up. With her eyes closed, the world had narrowed to the feel of Spike's fingers on her nipples and the way her thighs clenched tight around his waist. 

"Oh, _yes_ ," she'd moaned, leaning even further back on her cushion of air, perpendicular to Spike's body with her arms spread wide. Under normal circumstances, the blood would be rushing to her head, but these circumstances were decidedly not normal. Warm air wrapped like a blanket around her, hard fingers on her breasts, hard body between her legs...oh, bliss. As Spike had used one of his hands to ease the edge of her panties away from her body, she'd arched her back even further to allow his fingers better access.

In retrospect, that had been her first mistake.

It had taken her a moment to realize that her backwards dive had started the two of them slowly spinning in a lazy loop. When she'd noticed, she'd quickly thrown herself forward and wrapped her arms around Spike's neck again to try to halt their momentum.

Mistake number two.

The sudden movement had stopped their tumble only to start them spinning in the opposite direction, even more quickly than before.

"Crap," she'd groaned, burying her head in Spike's neck as the nausea threatened to make another appearance. "Make it stop!"

"Me?" Spike had asked incredulously. "This is your fault!"

It had taken them a good fifteen minutes to straighten out of their spin, and by the time they were finished, Buffy was utterly exhausted. It seemed as if her natural grace had completely deserted her, and she had no clue as to how to handle her body in this environment. There was no pull to her push, no take to her give. The simplest movement sent her into a tailspin that took minutes of hard effort to correct, and most of the time her actions only seemed to make things worse. Of course, it didn't help that she and Spike were finding it almost impossible to successfully coordinate their efforts.

If Giles had any idea what a good workout this was, he'd be sending all of the girls into space for regular training sessions.

"Is this how they did it in the movie?" Buffy whimpered. "Because this is way too much work."

"Not even remotely," Spike said, rubbing her sweaty back. "Had enough, have you?"

Buffy shook her head stubbornly. "Not a chance." They'd started this, and by God they were going to finish if it killed them both.

"Hmm," Spike mused. "The good news is that we seem to have stopped spinning."

They had indeed. And even better, they had drifted closer to one of the walls. In fact, if she reached right over there...

"Got it!" Buffy crowed triumphantly, grabbing onto a protruding bar. "Quick, get up here."

Spike followed her lead and also grabbed the bar, letting out a sigh of relief. Buffy could see the muscles in his arms twitching in exhaustion, and she took a minute to rest and regroup. She had no idea which way was up or down at this point, and that was probably for the best. Trying to figure it out just gave her a headache.

"Well, that was a slap and a tickle," Spike said. "Not that this hasn't been a load of fun, but I think we should...hey, what are you doing?"

Buffy had taken the opportunity to release the bar and slide down Spike's body, loosening his jeans. "What?" she said. "Didn't you say something about slapping?" And before he could say anything more, the jeans were gone, floating to the other side of the room. Buffy pouted, poking at his slightly wilted erection, and Spike gave her an apologetic shrug. "We'll see about that," she muttered, bracing herself and landing a couple of sharp smacks to his ass.

"Gah!" Spike choked. Buffy grinned. He'd clearly _not_ been expecting that one. Leaning forward, she took him in her mouth and ran her tongue teasingly around the head of his cock, leaving a flurry of light slaps on his ass. Spike whimpered, and she looked up to see that he had almost pulled the bar out of the wall. Oh, yeah. He was definitely ready now.

With a final kiss to the tip of his erection, she slithered back up Spike's body and grabbed the bar again. "It's my turn to try something," she breathed into his ear, turning around and nudging him with a wiggle of her ass. After a moment of glazed-eyed blinking -- Spike could be the king of delayed reactions when he was turned on -- he got the hint and let go of the bar, grabbing her ass.

"Just like that," Buffy cooed, grabbing the bar with both hands and wiggling against him. With a quick snap the underwear was gone and she was blessedly naked, Spike behind her and ready for action. And oh _God_ , she just remembered that she'd taken him in her _mouth_ , the same mouth she'd been sick with an hour earlier, and how could she have forgotten about that? But it was too late to worry about it, because with a grunt Spike tightened his grip and carefully slid into her, and...oh, that was _exactly_ what she'd been needing.

"That's it," Spike growled. "Take it, Slayer."

He started off slowly, just rocking against her while she clung tightly to the bar in front of her. She squirmed and sighed against him, and after a moment began to gingerly thrust back. She took one arm off the bar and braced her elbow against the wall, the better to control her movements. Spike was clinging tightly to her waist, his strong grip the only source of traction behind his thrusts.

"God, yeah," Buffy crooned. "So good." She could feel the metal bar starting to bend in her hand, but she didn't dare let go.

"Like that, do you?" Spike rumbled. He started to thrust harder, his bony pelvis banging against her ass so hard that she was sure he would leave bruises there. Buffy whimpered and shoved back harder against him. They had finally, _finally_ achieved the perfect rhythm together, just in time, just in time for her to come because she was _so close_....

With a grunt, Buffy pushed with her arms, thrusting back against Spike as hard as she could. She was almost there, almost there, and then...she felt Spike's fingers lose purchase on her slippery hips.

"Fuck!" Spike snarled as he slid backwards and out of her. He grabbed for her hips again, but it was too late. Buffy whipped her head around with a gasp of disappointment, then dropped her mouth open as she saw Spike sail backwards and hit the opposite wall. He bounced off and...oh crap, came flying right back towards her. She did her best to grab at him, and then the two of them were once again soaring back and forth while Buffy did her best not to cry from sheer frustration.

"No offense or anything," Spike said as calmly as he could while they were whizzing through the air, "but this is probably the worst sex I've ever had. And that includes that one time with Harmony."

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy groaned, and he gave her a concerned look.

"You alright, Slayer? You're starting to look a bit green."

At that very moment a siren sounded from somewhere, and the lights in the room began to blink. Buffy and Spike had time to exchange one concerned glance before they were suddenly falling -- actually falling, not flying. They slammed hard into the floor and let out twin groans.

"Okay," Buffy said weakly, "I think the gravity is back on now."

She got to her feet with a wince, stretching her sore muscles and going in search of her clothes. She kicked Spike's jeans over to him and found her own hanging from a pipe on the ceiling. A quick jump and grab dislodged them. She had just finished struggling into her shirt and pants (underwear missing, naturally, which was par for the course when Spike was involved) when there was a knock at the door. It slowly creaked open, and a man poked his head in. He had blond hair that stuck up all over his head, a series of grease smears on his cheeks, and a mildly curious expression on his face.

"Everyone decent in here?"

Buffy exchanged a glance with Spike, and he moved to stand next to her. The strange man opened the door further and stepped inside. He was followed by a tall woman with long dark hair tied back at the base of her neck. She had what appeared to be a sawed-off shotgun slung casually over her shoulder, and she looked Buffy and Spike over coolly. Buffy raised her eyebrow at the woman and shifted into a defensive posture. The woman casually mimicked Buffy's gesture, and Buffy nodded. If she was right, this woman was someone to be contended with. She knew a warrior when she saw one. So did Spike, if his appreciative glance was anything to go by. A little _too_ appreciative, actually. Buffy elbowed him sharply in the side.

"Ow! What?"

Buffy ignored him and sized up the couple in the doorway. It was time to get some answers.

"Who are you?" she asked as calmly as she could.

"I could ask you the same thing." A second man stepped through the door, the other two figures moving aside to make room for him. "After all, this is my boat you're on."

The new guy had some kind of pistol tucked into a holster, and he looked like he knew how to use it. There was a cold look in his eyes that Buffy recognized: the look of someone in charge who is too used to having things fall apart around him. He wore a dark shirt tucked into...yeah, that was a _very_ tight pair of pants. Did he actually need those suspenders to hold them up? And his face...Buffy shivered. He looked uncannily like Crazy Priest Guy from the year when Sunnydale was destroyed.

"Boat?" Buffy asked. "You mean we're not in space?"

Suspenders-guy frowned and exchanged a glance with the woman, who shrugged. "Sorry about the hard landing," he said, ignoring Buffy's question. "We just got the artificial gravity turned back on. Now if you just sit tight a minute, we'll see about getting you home."

Home? "Excuse me?" Buffy said. "You kidnap us, bring us into outer space...and then you're just taking us home?" She threw up her arms in frustration. "What in the hell is going on here?"

The blond guy cleared his throat. "We come to you from the future," he intoned dramatically.

Buffy stared at him incredulously. A few long seconds ticked by. The man seemed to deflate a bit, and the woman shot him a fond glance before turning back to Buffy and Spike.

"There was a bit of an accident," she said calmly. "We didn't reckon on ending up here."

"Funny story, actually," the blond man said, holding up a finger.

"Way I see it, it ain't that funny," suspenders-guy muttered.

"See, there was this uncharted micro-black hole," the other man continued. "Now, normally that wouldn't be a big problem. But add in an unexpected neutrino burst, and..." He must have seen that Buffy's eyes were glazing over, because he stopped and ran his hands through his hair. "...and you don't really care about the details, do you?"

"No," said Buffy and Spike together.

"Time-travel," he finished. "Well, time-and-space travel, if you want to be particular about it. We plotted the stars, counted backward." His eyebrows twitched upward in excitement. "You're from Earth, right? What's it like?"

Buffy exchanged a glance with Spike. It was probably better to humor these guys, whoever they were. "Uh, Earthy?"

"There must have been an answering power surge from your end," the woman continued. "That's they only way I can see you being here."

"You see any black holes?" the blond man asked.

Spike seemed to have developed a sudden coughing fit, and Buffy could feel her face growing red. "No, no black holes," she stuttered. "But, you know, there's the Hellmouth. Could that have been the source of the power surge thingy?"

The others exchanged a glance. "What's a Hellmouth, Captain?" the woman asked.

"Well, it's this mystical..." Buffy started, but it looked like she wasn't the only one suffering from glazed eyes. "Never mind," she muttered.

"The trip knocked us about something fierce," the guy -- who apparently was the captain -- said. "Lost power, engine troubles, you name it. And lo and behold, there the two of you were in the cargo hold, out cold, no clue as to where you came from."

"So you decided to keep us prisoner?" Spike growled.

"No, I decided to put you away safely while we were putting ourselves back together. You just woke up a bit sooner than we expected. The sick bay's a bit of a mess at the moment, but the doc said you'd be fine." He squinted at Spike. "Actually, he said you were dead, which don't exactly give me much faith in his fancy schooling."

"I am dead!" Spike protested, highly insulted.

"Look," Buffy interrupted. "Not that this isn't all fascinating, but...you said you could get us home?"

The captain nodded. "There's a rift in space. We reckon we'll be able to get back through it. If all goes well, the two of you'll end up wherever you came from, none the worse for wear."

"You _reckon_?" Buffy said. "What if we don't?"

"Then we'll all die horribly," the blond man said, shrugging cheerfully. "I figure it's 50-50 either way."

Buffy gaped at him, but before she could say anything a third man came into the room. He was wearing a vest, his dark hair was neatly brushed back, and he carried a small case.

"Doctor, would you see to our guests?" the captain asked. The doctor nodded and did a double-take.

"I thought he was dead," he sputtered, pointing at Spike.

"Still am," Spike said with an annoyed sigh. "And not getting any younger. Can we move this along?"

"Yeah, I'd best get back to the bridge," the blond man said. He turned to the door, then paused. "Oh, and by the way, a suggestion?" He pointed to some of the bars set into the metal walls of the room. "If you hook your arms _and_ your legs through those, it makes it a lot easier to get some traction while you're...you know." He looked up at the corner of the room, and Buffy was horrified to see that there was some kind of security camera set there. The man gave Spike an open-mouthed grin and a quick thumbs-up, then disappeared through the open door. Buffy groaned in embarrassment and buried her scarlet face in her hands for a moment. When she looked up, the tall woman gave her a brief sympathetic glance before following the man out of the room.

It looked like men were still pigs, no matter what century it was.

"Right," the captain said, slapping his hands on his thighs. "As much as it pains me to say goodbye...well, it actually don't pain me at all." He nodded at the doctor, who was now standing behind Buffy. She gave a gasp as she felt a sudden pinch, and looked accusingly at the instrument the doctor was holding.

"It'll just help you to relax for the trip through the rift," he said kindly. With a flick of his wrist, he turned and gave Spike a similar injection. Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but the room started to swim before her eyes. Her limbs felt leaden, a sharp contrast to the way she'd felt floating through the air just minutes before. She reached out to Spike as her legs gave way, and he caught her before collapsing himself.

"It was a pleasure having you on board," the captain said with a faint smirk, and then Buffy's world went black.

**********

When Buffy opened her eyes, she was lying on the ground in the middle of Cleveland's Longview Cemetery. Her head was pounding, and she gingerly sat up and waited for her stomach to catch up. She heard a faint groan and turned her head to see Spike lying next to her.

"Are you okay?" he croaked. She nodded.

"Just sore all over. You?"

Spike rolled to his feet unsteadily and extended a hand to help Buffy up. "Could be better," he admitted. "What happened?"

Buffy frowned. She remembered a bright light, and a feeling of floating, but nothing else. "I'm...not sure," she said. "Maybe we got attacked. Do you remember anything?"

Spike shook his head thoughtfully. "Not a thing. Sorry."

"We'd better have Giles check us out," Buffy said, wrapping an arm around Spike's waist as her knees wobbled. He slung an arm around her and let her lean on him.

"Sounds like a plan," he said. "We'd better get the word out in case there's another big bad in town."

Buffy hummed in agreement, and the two of them staggered forward. There was something there that she couldn't put her finger on, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was. Something was picking at the edges of her mind, but it was like her brain had been wiped clean. She mentally shrugged. She'd remember it sooner or later, whatever it was. With careful steps, the two of them made their way towards the gates of the cemetery. It was only when they were leaving that she finally thought to mention something that was bothering her.

"Spike? What happened to your shirt?"


End file.
